


Drunk on Petroleum

by SpaghettiCanActivist



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Big Brother Zeb, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Permanent Injury, Suicide Attempt, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15905100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaghettiCanActivist/pseuds/SpaghettiCanActivist
Summary: Cliche AU to Season Two finale. Ezra loses his sight instead of Kanan. Everyone is struggling with guilt, no one more than Ezra. Isolated and struggling with his debilitating handicap, Ezra struggles with depression while the rest of his little family tries not to fall apart. Warning: Suicidal themes.





	1. Heavy Light of Day

Ezra stared sightlessly out at the horizon of Atollon. Night was falling and the activities of the rebel base were slowly falling to a quiet rest from the business of the day. Things had still been functioning strangely after the loss of Ahsoka, but Commander Sato had managed to rally them from the loss and the work was continued. Grief and mourning were the motivations for their cause.

Ezra let his head bend to the side, the cocked angle making no difference as to what he could see. He could smell the dust, a light aroma of dirt that carried salt on it as evidence to the ancient sea which used to reside there. He could also feel the sun, and the creeping cold as sunset approached. He was near the edge of one of the great leafs of the mountainous coral that part of the base was built on. It felt nice to know that such a precarious drop was so close, the magnitude of his position something he could control, unlike so many other things.

Following the events on Malachor, his betrayal of Kanan, Ahsoka's death, his own subsequent and well deserved blindness, things had dropped to a slow monotony. Nothing could be done, such a lightsaber wound untreatable, and after recovering to full health (or as much full health as he would have) Ezra had sunk into an ignored anonymity. No one had any use for a blind padawan, least of all time to spend with him as the rebellion pushed forward. Hera was run ragged with work and aside from a few minutes eating and a few hours sleeping, she had little time. Ezra hadn't seen her for several weeks. Sabine was just as busy, and when she was around, the time was awkwardly spent. He never saw Kanan, and at just the thought his chest got tight and he drew his arms closer around his knees.

Kanan had spoken to him a handful of times following Malachor, and it was only ever in the first week of his injury, a few quiet, emotionless words or questions lingering in his memory trying to push past the fog that surrounded that time. Ezra knew Kanan was mad, knew his master was deeply disappointed in him and he hated the nausea that stirred in his stomach at the thought. He'd kriffed up and there were many times he wished it had been him and not Ahsoka who had fallen under the Sith lord's blade.

He couldn't change any of that though. The worst was probably the Force with Kanan, Ezra could feel the shields and blockades his master had put up, and the one time Ezra had tried to meekly prod at them he'd been figuratively slapped away. So yeah, Ezra could read between the lines, take a hint, whatever you wanted to call it, and he'd backed off. It didn't mean it didn't hurt, but Ezra survived that by obdurately pushing it away from his mind, shoving at the emotions and trying to focus on the frustrating process of relearning how to live in a world he couldn't see.

"Whatcha doin' out here?"

Ezra jumped at the voice. He'd been so thoroughly inside his own head he hadn't heard the person approach.

"Hey Zeb," Ezra said quietly.

He heard the Lasat move closer and then seat himself next to Ezra. Strangely enough, Ezra knew Zeb by his smell, a musty, earthy smell which had a hint of spice that was foreign. He assumed, after snooping around a little and discovering that Zeb did not use any perfumes of cologne, that it was the natural scent of the Lasat. He remembered when he'd first joined the Ghost crew and it used to be weird and by his young mind, an unappealing smell, it was now reassuring.

In all of the recent difficulties, Zeb seemed to have been the best about it. He wasn't awkward like Sabine, or constantly absent like Hera and Kanan (though Kanan's was by choice and Hera's by circumstance).

In fact, Zeb was a surprisingly strong and stable support, still hassling Ezra so he didn't feel changed and offering to train him in fighting, apparently sightless fighting was a special form of combat in Lasat culture called hluhutsu. Zeb had taken to working with Ezra nearly daily on movement and hluhutsu. It was the one thing that made Ezra feel like he wasn't rotting away, but he still felt guilty, knowing that Zeb was using his time helping Ezra rather than helping the rebellion.

"You know, I'm not exactly sure what you get out of this, watching the sunset and all," Zeb said, jesting.

That was the other thing, Zeb had no qualms teasing Ezra about his blindness, of making jokes or using it as another tool to mess with him, he did so with tact, but it was a relief, especially as everyone else tiptoed around the issue.

"I mean, got to be a screw loose in there, watching nothing. Unless you were trying to go for the wise person staring off into the distance, in which case kid, you aren't exactly wise."

"Shut up," Ezra said, a grin on his face as he smacked Zeb in the arm.

The Lasat shoved him back, but it was gentle and didn't upset his position. That was one thing that had changed, Zeb was gentle and much more careful with his physical interactions with Ezra. This fact only bothered Ezra a little, in a deluge of difficulties, it was one of the smaller ones.

"In face, you gotta be one of the dumbest people on base," Zeb said with a guffaw.

"Funny you should say that, because you're a close second," Ezra shot back.

Zeb let out a chuckle and Ezra imagined the Lasat was shaking his head. They fell into a comfortable silence. Ezra scooted a little closer so his shoulder was just brushing Zeb's. The Lasat said nothing about the close contact, something Ezra appreciated. Sometimes it was grounding to be able to physically know Zeb was there, that anyone was there.

Being blind had been surprisingly lonely, after his health stabilized people awkwardly avoided him and he'd stayed in his room, afraid and uncomfortable. Long hours in a world forever dark that was both silent and empty had not exactly been conducive to his already fragile mental health. Ezra hated to admit it, but sometimes he felt like he was going crazy.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Ezra didn't want to eat, he knew he was hungry, could feel it, but his mind didn't want to. He knew Zeb was being kind, maybe even having noticed that Ezra ate less now, but Ezra doubted that. Zeb was kind, and observant, but he was still pretty busy and spent sometimes days or even over a week off base on missions. During that time Ezra stayed and wallowed.

"Yeah, sounds good," Ezra said, forcing an extra cheerfulness into his voice.

He liked sounding like himself for Zeb, if just to assuage any worries he might be rousing. An awkward moment passed as Ezra got to his feet, one where he could hear Zeb shift and could accurately assume that the Lasat had moved to help him before stepping back.

Zeb cleared his throat to avoid the uncomfortable moment that passed.

"Uh, heard they got some real food from off planet, dinner'll probably be good."

Ezra gave a nod and the two headed towards the mess hall.

 

 

"Kanan," Hera sounded surprised, a pleased, if tired, smile adorning her face.

"Hey Hera," Kanan replied, glad he'd finally found the Twi'lek.

"I haven't seen you, well," Hera folded her arms, "it's been a while."

Hera's face softened sadly.

"I've missed you, love," she said quietly

It had been a while, since the loss of Ahsoka Hera had been working double time helping Commander Sato with making up for the devastating loss. Kanan had been, well, he'd been throwing himself into whatever mission he could.

"I've missed you too," Kanan replied.

Hera looked exhausted and Kanan knew he didn't look much better.

"How's Ezra?"

Kanan jerked at the question, paling slightly. Hera responding look was confused and then worried. She probably had no idea he'd been so busy, or that he hadn't seen Ezra in what would now be months. She was so busy she most likely didn't have time to visit the boy and was assuming that Kanan did.

"I don't know," Kanan said, voice low.

Hera's frown of worry creased further and Kanan hated to see how it aged her face when paired with the exhaustion.

"What do you mean?" She asked, eyes probing Kanan, sharp and gentle at the same time.

"I've been busy," he deflected, "we all have."

Hera backed off a little, and Kanan was glad that spreading the blame helped pull Hera away from questioning him further.

"I know, I haven't seen him, not for a few weeks now, things have just been so busy and-" Hera waved her hand, looking unhappy about it.

"Yeah," Kanan agreed.

"But, I would think you'd be helping him adjust, wouldn't the Force be the best medicine at this point?"

Kanan cringed at Hera's question and felt a sweep of guilt. She was very right, Ezra's best bet for relearning mobility would be through the Foce, and the process would be much easier if Ezra had another Force user helping him. Not Kanan though.

When Kanan didn't answer Hera fixed him with another considering look and Kanan just knew the woman was starting to see the whole picture a little better. Lucky for him, Commander Sato approached.

"Captain Syndulla, if I could have your company in the command room."

"Of course, Commander Sato, I'll be there in a few moments," she said before turning to Kanan.

Kanan could tell from her look that everything was far from over. The lines in her face were pulled tight and her eyes circled with lack of sleep. Kanan knew, with much guilt, that she would be too exhausted to do anything.

"We should talk later," she said, brushing a hand against his forearm before walking away.

 

 

Dinner was nice enough, and Zeb, who promised to teach him after, ended up being asked to help fix something and Ezra, who had been looking forward to some company, was left alone. He was now confident enough to get from the mess hall to his room, and soon he was on his bunk feeling a sense of hopelessness wash over him.

He couldn't see the room, but he remembered what it looked like, four steel walls with a plain metal framed platform bed. There was a closet and a small amount of storage under the bed which contained his lightsaber and a small loth-cat doll the Ghost crew had given him as a gag gift. It was a bleak room and somehow, being blind, it was all the worse as his imagination filled it with shadows; every bland feature was exaggerated, every sterile, unfeeling component magnified.

His room had become a prison as much as it was a sanctuary, sequestered away from people and empty save for Ezra. It brought back the horrible and terribly lonely memories of his childhood. Ezra curled up on his side and sighed. His mind wandered to Malachor and he re-lived his mistakes: trusting Darth Maul and in the course betraying Kanan (no matter how unintentional it had been), thinking he was strong enough, putting everyone in danger, killing Ahsoka. Ezra clenched his eyes shut and tried to breathe past the weight on his chest and the utter shame that flooded him.

He remembered doubling back, doubt at Maul's genuity making him do so, and he recalled watching Maul turn on his master and friend. He'd entered the fray, trying for a sneak attack which had gone horribly wrong. After that he only recalled pain and then darkness, a literal and figurative darkness, neither which had lifted since then. He knew Kanan blamed him for Ahsoka, for trusting Maul, and despite knowing he had no right to pity himself or to want his master's company, he couldn't help it.

Ezra clenched his teeth, grinding them against each other. Tonight was like many others, a round robin in his head of his failures and the consequences. He was alone again, a failure to his master and a useless tool to the rest of the Ghost crew. They were all just too nice to say it.

 

 

Morning came and Ezra wandered to the mess hall. He hadn't slept well, and he'd woken with the heavy weight still on his chest. Zeb was waiting for him, like he usually was, and Ezra was able to muster a smile, one that had a hint of sincerity. Zeb began prattling, his tone carrying up and down as he complained about what he'd fixed yesterday. Ezra was able to be lost in his voice.

"Y'know, Sabine's gonna be here, she got back from that intel mission and she might be sticking around, maybe you two can spar a little?"

Ezra shrugged, wilting at the thought. He didn't want Sabine to see him like this, or spend time with her. At least before he'd been on the same physical level as her, even if he was uneducated. Now he had nothing for Sabine to relate to him with.

"Fun, right?" Zeb sounded worried.

Ezra plastered a smile on and gave an enthusiastic nod.

"Yeah, loads," Ezra knew it wasn't particularly convincing.

Zeb was quiet a few moments and Ezra could hear the nearly inaudible and weary sigh from the Lasat. Ezra curled away from it, he was even getting to Zeb. A sort of panic seized him, without his sight he was useless, and though the rebels would humour him for now, Ezra had no idea how long they'd put up with a broken padawan. Hera had already set him to the side (and with her Chopper), Kanan hadn't even said a farewell, and the rest of the Ghost crew were slowly drifting away. Ezra was cast aside, impotency rendering him terrified at his prospects.

"Hey, I'm gonna be gone for a few days, they need me on a mission, it shouldn't be long, I'm leaving in a few hours, but we've got to prep right now," Zeb said reluctantly.

"That's fine," Ezra snapped, he wasn't a baby, he didn't need someone with him all the time.

Zeb patted him on the back and headed off. Ezra ducked his head, feeling lost. No matter how much he wanted to say he was fine on his own, he wasn't. The thought of being without any form of company and alone with his thoughts 24/7 scared him.


	2. The Walls are Growing Thin

Kanan had done a large amount of unhealthy self-reflection, better called self-recrimination. Malachor was a sign to him, the big event which ripped away all the confidence he'd built in his abilities and fate as a Jedi. The insecurities of his teenage years and young adulthood had been thrust back on him, his student was blind, another good friend dead, all by his judgement. Kanan had spent many hours and days pondering why the events on Malachor had unfolded the way they had and he had settled on the explanation of the important variable being himself.

Not strong enough, still corrupt and impure from his many years breaking the Jedi code, his failure as a teacher. Ezra was blind. Kanan had done the impossible, taken a kid with a kriffed up life and managed to somehow make it worse, something he hadn't thought conceivable. He kept telling himself that it was now of utmost importance that he allow Ezra the space to heal and to come to his own decisions without Kanan's influence. No doubt the deep bond between the two, formed at a time in Ezra's life when he had no one (an unfair situation to a child with little choice in the matter) was something which needed to be tempered.

Kanan was too attached, had encouraged Ezra to be too attached to someone who was ultimately akin to a cancerous growth. Best to leave Ezra alone. Kanan had forgotten who he was.

Rubbing at his face, Kanan walked down the hallways of the rebellion ship Chrysalis, a meeting place and the main quarters of Commander Sato.

"Jarrus, I was just looking for you."

Speak of the devil. Kanan turned to see Commander Sato walking towards him, a smile on his face.

"Commander Sato," Kanan said in reply, "what can I help you with?"

"Your Padawan," Sato said, standing at ease in the hallway.

Kanan glanced about the white hall, uncomfortable discussing this in general, but wishing to do so out of earshot.

"What about him?" Kanan asked, now less bonhomous.

"I know I initially underestimated the boy, but since then I've seen exactly how skilled and capable he is. I know the loss of his sight is no doubt devastating but I'm sure he'll rebound well. I hope his progress has been going well."

"I wouldn't know," Kanan answered.

Sato looked surprised.

"Why not?"

"Well, we've needed a Jedi in the field, I've been busy with missions," Kanan felt pretty good about that excuse and it seemed Sato believed it.

The man frowned, seemed to consider it for a few moments, before looking back to Kanan. Kanan had hopes that the man would leave it at that.

"I'm sure we can live without you, it's more important for you to be with your Padawan. I'll have you taken off all missions and stationed at Atollon," with that, Sato smiled at Kanan and patted him on the back before walking off.

Kanan was frozen in shock. The last place he wanted to go was Atollon.

 

 

Ezra ran into Sabine on his way out from breakfast the second day Zeb was gone.

"Ezra," Sabine's voice was hesitant.

Ezra halted, turning in the direction of the voice.

"How, uh, how have you been?"

Sabine sounded so awkward and uncomfortable. It pricked at Ezra and he turned to continue making his way out of the breakfast hall.

"Fine," he threw out, hearing the girl falling into step beside him.

It was silent aside from the quick staccato of Sabine's boots echoing just behind him. It pressed on Ezra, the sound, the steady click click and the knowledge that she was following. Irrational anger brewed in him, what did she care? Why was she following, the click click grating on his ears, sightless motions carrying away and away till he was walking at a pace nearer to a jog.

Finally the sound, her presence, a weight upon his chest and lungs, snapped.

"What do you want!?" He barked, spinning around.

He saw nothing, could only hear the click click replaced by silence. Was she sneering, staring at him in disgust and accusation? Pity poor Ezra Bridger, the blind street rat now useless by his own idiocy.

"I just-" Sabine broke off, her voice was meek and hurt.

Ezra's rage faltered, a pin to a balloon and all the air and bravado escaping. He'd snapped at her for no reason.

"Leave me alone, please," Ezra said quietly, head ducked even though he couldn't see.

"I'm sorry," Sabine whispered out and the click click of her boots rapidly faded away.

Ezra stood there feeling pathetic. He was still hurting people. A few moments passed before he realized he had no idea where he was. He'd been so, so, wound up, a clockwork mouse whose gears were ready to burst and fall apart. He hadn't even payed attention to where he was storming off to and was now lost.

"Watch it!" An elderly voice whipped through the despair and Ezra stumbled back against the wall.

"Sorry," he said, not entirely sure who he was saying it to or why.

There was silence, the clink of metal and then Ezra felt a soft puff of air from movement.

"Say, you're that boy from the Ghost, the Jedi whatchamacallit."

Ezra stiffened, preparing for the inevitable questions about his blindness and about Malachor.

"I heard you're pretty good with machines, follow me."

A wrinkled hand grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, Ezra was too stunned by the turn of events to do anything. They walked a little ways and then stopped. The hand released him and Ezra heard the whir of a door. The hand seized him again.

"C'mon in," the old woman's voice bellowed.

Ezra didn't have much of a choice as she tugged him.

"You sit here."

He was guided to a seat and pushed down roughly. Now sitting, he waited. The old woman however seemed busy, noises that Ezra didn't recognize sounding out. There was suddenly a loud clunk right next to him and Ezra jumped a little.

"Here we are, you try an' clean these parts up, see if you can get them function."

And that seemed to be that. The old woman said nothing more and from what Ezra heard, she had set about her own business. Hesitantly, Ezra felt out in front of him. His fingers brushed against a box and then, as he explored, he found that in it were what felt like bits and pieces of machinery to ships.

At first, Ezra was shy about messing with the parts, he couldn't see and he honestly didn't know much. But every so often the old woman would snap something at him, move his hands and then give him a bit of an explanation. She did it in a way that didn't make him feel like he was being babied because he was blind. The other part of the time she prattled away, talking about herself, about her tiny droids that she literally built merely for company, about places she'd been and ships she'd fixed. Ezra learned her name was Tira Prim. She was a self-confessed crazy old mechanic lady and she helped do maintenance and repairs on ship parts.

The time passed pleasantly. Tira shoved a sandwich into his hand around lunch time and then kept working. When evening came, or Ezra assumed it was evening, she patted him on the back, steered him out and told him to come back tomorrow. She shot off quick directions to the mess hall and then the door was sliding shut behind Ezra.

Ezra walked down the hall to his room feeling a little better than he had the day before.

The week Zeb was gone passed pretty easily. Ezra spent his days with Tira Prim, cleaning machine parts and sometimes even fixing him. He found himself actually using the Force, albeit nearly unconsciously, as he used it to help him see the parts beyond just using his hands and the sensation of touch. It was strange, but Ezra felt useful again, even if just a little, he had some small purpose. Maybe he wasn't with his family, and maybe he still spent his nights struggling to sleep and tossing his way through nightmares and battling the thoughts in his head, but at least he was now helping the rebellion.

When Zeb got back, the Lasat visited Ezra and for the first time in a while, Ezra actually smiled a full smile. They practiced hluhutsu and Ezra felt like everything was looking up.

 

 

Kanan had landed on Atollon a few days ago. He hated it, boxed away and grounded from all missions. General Sato didn't fully understand the situation and had given Kanan this 'vacation' to allow him to help Ezra. It had been a well meaning gesture, but Kanan was still bitter about it. His padawan didn't need him, in fact the last person Ezra needed was Kanan.

So Kanan sometimes ate, stalked about and in general tried to avoid everybody. He left his lightsaber in his room and tucked the holocron as far away as possible. He'd stopped meditating and it felt so similar to the time after Billaba's death. She probably wouldn't be too happy with his decisions now either.

Right now he was on a tiny mission for one of the pilots, the guy had needed a hand bringing some parts to someone he called 'the crazy parts lady' because he didn't have time. Kanan, overwhelmed by time, had volunteered himself.

Coming to the door of the crazy parts lady, Kanan knocked. An old voice barked out a 'come in' and Kanan opened the door. He stepped in and approached the wrinkled old human woman, the part in his hand. He came to a halt as someone he hadn't seen initially came into view. It was Ezra, standing behind the old woman with a part in hand. Kanan was staring, the words that had been about to slip from his mouth gone.

Ezra was wearing no eye guard and his milky white eyes and the red scar were very visible. The boy obviously couldn't see him and there was a small, if a little sad, smile on his face.

"Well? What is it? Loth-cat got your tongue or are you going to tell me why you're here?" The old woman snapped.

Kanan blinked, right, the part. He stared down at the part in his hand. Maybe he should walk away, not even risk putting himself in Ezra's world. He'd promised the part though, and the boy would inevitably run into him at some point.

"Uh," Kanan cleared his throat, "yeah, I have this part for you."

Kanan couldn't ignore the way Ezra's eyes widened, the way the boy's whole body stiffened. The woman noticed, a brow raising, but she said nothing.

"I believe I can fix it for you," she said, grabbing the part and eyeing it.

Kanan watched Ezra's mouth open, like he wanted to say something.

"Come back in a couple days, I'll have it ready then."

Kanan gave a nod, turning to go. He needed to leave. He was almost out the door when he heard Ezra's voice and heard a clatter.

"Wait!" Ezra cried out, rushing forward without thinking and slamming into a pile of parts and knocking them everywhere.

Kanan paused briefly, guilt swallowing him. Ezra was busy trying to disentangle himself from the mess he'd made.

"Kanan, wait, just wait," Ezra huffed, finally getting to his feet.

Kanan felt panic fill him, a desperate need to run. Ezra was approaching, blindly fumbling along. Kanan edged away.

"Can we talk? Please?" Ezra begged.

"No, we," Kanan fumbled, "there's nothing to talk about, kid."

With that Kanan fled the scene, rushing down the hallway.

Ezra hadn't been expecting Kanan's voice, the rich timbre almost foreign from how long it'd been since he'd heard it. Thoughts had sped through his mind and as Kanan turned to go he'd just desperately wanted to say sorry, to let his master know that he hadn't meant it. Instead, Kanan had left and Ezra's apology had never had time to form on his tongue.

Standing in shock, Ezra felt that familiar weight settle on his chest with a vengeance, a tight band constricting his lungs and stomach.

"Boy," Tira said, for once sounding soft.

Ezra fled, rushing out and headed somewhere he could feel like he had control, somewhere to get rid of this weight and to feel light again. That somewhere was his favorite coral leaf. He stepped out haphazardly, foot slipping one time and nearly sending him tumbling down the fatal distance to the ground. Finally, he was edged out on the tip of the leaf, his toes peeking over the edge and meeting air.

Ezra clenched his eyes shut, his chest hurt, he needed it to not hurt.

"Ezra!?"

Ezra flinched at the unexpected sound, nearly falling. It was Zeb. A few moments passed and a large hand was gripping his bicep and pulling him back and away from the edge. It was a bit of a blur, Zeb both rough and gentle as he carted Ezra back towards safety.

"Karabast kid, you damn near gave me a heart attack. What were you doing?"

Ezra was silent. He didn't really know. Zeb shook him a little before pulling him closer into what was almost sort of a hug. Then he was guiding him somewhere, Ezra assumed his room.

"Why?" Ezra asked.

Zeb stopped.

"Whaddaya mean, why?" Zeb asked cantankerously.

"Why am I here?" Ezra asked, voice ethereal, weighed with despair and confusion.

There was silence. Zeb sort of shook him, obviously confused by the question as well.

"We're getting you to bed, okay," Zeb replied before continuing to take Ezra towards his room.


	3. Despite the Faults

Life somehow went on, Kanan managing to avoid Ezra and Ezra still working with Tira. Things felt wrong, like a tilted picture frame missing the background. But it had felt wrong for so long that everyone had learned to ignore it. Zeb learned to smile in response to the brittle one's Ezra gave him and to pretend like Sabine wasn't as skittish as a rabbit. Or that Kanan was avoiding any and everyone. He also pretended like he wasn't trying to fix it all by encouraging his little family to be a kriffing family again.

Life went on until Zeb had a mission. He left hoping he would come back to everything better.

It had been a long away mission, three days and a constant struggle for survival. Bad luck had dogged them at every move with blood and tears the only thing allowing them to get the Intel they'd gone in for and get out.

To make it better, Zeb had barely finished showering and checking out of the med bay for a minor injury when Tira Prim, the old mechanic lady who worked with Ezra, had come to him expressing worry over the boy. Apparently Ezra hadn't come by the last two days and he'd missed both meals today.

Zeb wished he could get mad or annoyed, it would be easier than the fear which struck him. For some reason the image of Ezra perched at the very edge of the coral leaf, head bent down and body leaned over like he meant to- Zeb shook his head. It haunted him, just as much as his inability to respond to Ezra's question in such a way to lift the despair and hopelessness which lay in the boy's now clouded eyes.

So instead of getting dinner and passing out in his bunk, he headed down the hall towards Ezra's room. He didn't knock on the door, opening it silently.

He frowned as he took in the scene before him.

Ezra was seated on the bed, toes almost brushing the floor. His whole posture was sunk and turned in, a slumped sitting position of misery. In his hands he held his lightsaber, the end the blade projected from pointed at himself. It wasn't on, but the boy's finger was tracing the button with an intense reverence.

Zeb blanched, he took a faltering step forward. Ezra hadn't heard him, but, if he startled the boy. An image of Ezra's corpse pierced by the blue blade came to mind.

"Ezra?" Zeb said softly.

The boy jumped, the lightsaber clattered to the floor and Zeb was met with the spooked and guilty gaze of milky white eyes. Ezra's face burned red as if he'd been caught doing something embarrassing or shameful. Zeb feared the reason for that.

"Z-zeb," Ezra said breathlessly.

"What were you doing?" Zeb's initial shock was fading and fear and anger were clouding everything.

"No-nothing," Ezra said, voice trembling and utterly unbelievable.

Zeb stormed forward. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, he'd just seen a half of his mission party die and the thought of losing anyone else, especially someone he considered family, was too much.

His hands were on Ezra's shoulders, grip tight.

"Don't lie to me," Zeb growled.

Ezra seemed duly terrified and Zeb could feel him shaking under his grasp.

"Nothing, nothing," Ezra gasped out, shaking his head as tears filled his eyes.

"I said don't lie!" Zeb roared, shaking Ezra.

Ezra dissolved into tears, shaking and sobbing. Zeb barely caught what the boy said.

'It'd be better.'

Zeb's heart sank.

"Karabast," Zeb's voice was low and broken.

Tugging Ezra into a hug, Zeb clutched the boy to him feeling like he was dying inside along with the kid. What had happened to their little, broken, but happy family?

After Ezra fell asleep, crying all the while. Zeb took the lightsaber and quickly searched the room for other possibly dangerous items. Everything removed, Zeb tucked the teenager in and stepped out feeling like he'd been hit by a star destroyer.

Zeb was done. He was fed up with Kanan ducking him and Hera looking at him with an exhausted expression and with Sabine brushing him off. Most especially he was done with watching the slow spiralling crash that their youngest crew member was currently on. Kriff the rebellion, kriff the Empire, he'd already lost his family one time and he had no intentions of losing it a second.

Marching down the hall, Zeb intended on making this right.

He called Hera first. The Twi'lek looked exhausted.

"Zeb? What are you doing calling me?" She sounded thoroughly confused.

Zeb didn't care. Their family was imploding and he wasn't going to let that happen.

"Get here, Atollon, we need you bad, Hera," Zeb was staring at the holocommunicator, praying Hera listened.

"Wait, what? What do you mean? What happened? Was Atollon attacked?" Hera was panicking, spitting out rapid fire questions.

"It's Ezra, and it's our family, and we need you," Zeb replied, voice low with emotion.

Hera was quiet, confusion warping into a meagre understanding.

"Okay," she said quietly, "I'll be there, just let me talk to General Sato."

Zeb gave a nod, too exhausted to do anything other than hang up. That dealt with that one. Now for the next one.

* * *

Finding Kanan's room wasn't too difficult. He'd just avoided it before this to offer the man privacy. Now wasn't the time. Slamming a fist against the door, Zeb waited for Kanan to answer. Seconds later the door slid open.

Kanan's eyes flashed through a series of emotions before finally settling in a furtive, uncomfortable expression.

"Zeb, look, I'm busy-" Kanan started spitting out some half assed excuse.

Zeb roughly shoved past Kanan.

"Don't care," Zeb bit out.

"Zeb, what the kriff!?" Kanan barked out, glaring at Zeb as the Last planted himself in Kanan's room.

Zeb said nothing at first, arms folded, shoulders et back and stance wide. He was trying to control his anger.

"It's Ezra you piece of bantha fodder," Zeb spit out.

Kanan's mouth went dry and his anger seeped away like a lanced wound.

"I'm losing him Kanan," Zeb's voice broke a little. "We all are and if you don't start giving a drum we're all going to lose him."

"I-" Kanan started, voice paper thin.

"No, alright, you fix this, you talk to him you say sorry you accept his apology you meditate or whatever, just do something to fix it. I lost my family once, all of it, and I'm not letting it happen again."

Zeb shoved a finger into Kanan's chest, emphasizing his point. Then Zeb turned on his heel and started to storm out.

"Where are you going?" Kanan called.

"To talk to Sabine and help her get her head out of her she's. Then I'm gonna check on Ezra."

The door slid shut and Zeb disappeared from view.

Kanan blinked a couple of times, sitting heavily on his bed. Looking out his small box window he saw a storm lashing the outside world.

Zeb had never talked to him like that, sure the Last had his moments of anger, but he'd always deferred to Kanan with at least a modicum of respect.

He thought of meeting Ezra in the parts room. Ezra had looked desperate and devastated. Guilt roared in him, threatening to swallow him whole.

His datatpad buzzed. In a daze he reached over and looked at it. It was a call from Hera.

He answered.

"Did Zeb talk to you?" Was Hera's first words.

"Yeah," Kanan said quietly in response.

"That bad?" Hera asked.

Kanan said nothing. The line was silent for a few moments.

"This has to do with Ezra doesn't it?" Hera sounded so sad, a grief riddled understanding just now dawning on her.

"Yeah," Kanan's voice cracked.

"You've left him alone, haven't you?" Hera replied, sounding scared of the truth.

"Yeah," Kanan repeated in the same tone.

"He needed you," she said. "We all saw that, right after it happened."

Regret stung and bile rose in Kanan's throat. He closed his eyes.

"I know, but I'm bad for him Hera, I've taught him things that put a target on his back, I've failed him when he deserved more. I haven't-I can't protect him."

Unwanted tears were in Kanan's eyes.

"If that's what you believe then I don't think you know how much you are needed by Ezra.'

"That's not true," Kanan countered.

"He needs all of us, just like we all need each other. There's no lone rebel, we're a family."

Kanan said nothing in reply, throat thick.

"I think we've all forgotten that recently. But we're going to fix it. No matter what you think, you've made a positive difference in Ezra's life, given him purpose, meaning and helped him to understand powers he would be hunted for with or without you. So help him."

Kanan nodded his head.

"Okay," he replied.

"That's my Jedi," Hera said softly.

The line disconnected. Kanan wiped a hand over his face, the despair which had clung to him partially lifted. Hera was right, Ezra needed him. He wasn't going to let his Padawan down. He stood up and went to his door.

The storm had calmed somewhat, a light sprinkling of rain casting down on the planet. Kanan was trying to muster the courage to face his padawan. It had been months and like a coward he had hid away. Hera was right, he needed to face this before things got worse. It didn't make it any easier though. Kanan reached the living quarters, staring at the door before him. Not yet.

Kanan decided that he was going to loop around the giant coral, just one more time, in case Ezra wasn't there. He knew the real reason was cowardice. Walking along, he was surprised to see a couple men jogging past him.

"Hey, what's going on?" Kanan called.

The men turned, impatient and obviously having no desire to converse.

"Didn't you hear? The blind kid is out on one of the leafs, he's going to jump or something."

Kanan's heart dropped, his whole body froze and he felt his vision lose focus. No, no no no no, not Ezra, never Ezra. His kid wouldn't do that, no way.

"Where?" He asked.

"Just a little farther on."

Kanan was running as fast as he could, heart pounding with adrenaline. Looking out, he saw a figure perched at the tip of one of the leaves of coral. It was Ezra. As Kanan drew closer he saw a small crowd of people congregated at the base of the leaf. A couple had walked farther out, but the only figure out near the edge other than Ezra was Zeb. Kanan froze again, the reality of the situation too much to process.

Then he was running out, coming up to Zeb's elbow. Zeb didn't see him, whole attention on Ezra who was faced in their direction, face cover gone to reveal white eyes and a red scar. Ezra was less than a foot from the edge, hands clenched and his body shaking.

"C'mon kid, just come back, we can talk about this," Zeb's voice was unnaturally soft, a pleading in it that Kanan had never heard before.

"I-I can't," Ezra stuttered out.

Kanan took a step closer and Zeb glanced at him, surprise registering on his face followed by a desperate imploring.

"Why not?" Kanan called out.

Ezra startled, and Kanan felt his throat close up as the boy nearly fell backwards. Zeb half lunged forward, moving as if to catch Ezra.

"Kanan?" Ezra looked shocked.

"Ezra, step away from the edge," Kanan said, voice commanding as he just desperately wanted Ezra to be away from the edge.

He watched his padawan hesitate, looking like he was going to listen and step forward.

"W-why? This, this is better."

Kanan could see Ezra shift back and he tensed.

"No, it's not, Ezra," Kanan tried to sound sure.

Ezra shook his head and Kanan saw for the first time the tear tracks on the boy's face. Kanan moved slowly forward, not wanting to alarm the boy if he could hear the movement.

"You don't mean that, I'm useless, a burden!" Ezra cried, a twist of anger on his face.

He shifted back another inch and his heel met air. Kanan edged closer.

"No, Ezra, you're not useless or a burden," Kanan was saying whatever came to mind, his intent to get close enough to pull the boy to safety.

"Then why'd you leave? Why'd everybody leave?" Ezra cried, voice low and broken, "I killed Ahoska and failed you."

Kanan halted his forward movement, staring in pain at his padawan. He'd hurt the boy with his distance, had left him alone to face an impossible situation. He was speechless, voice stolen by guilt.

Ezra's gaze fell somber, a deep sadness entering it.

"That's what I thought," he said quietly.

Kanan lurched forward just as Ezra took a step back. Kanan caught hold of the boy's hand and pulled. They fell in heap, Ezra struggling to get free. Kanan tried to hold the boy to his chest, arms locked around Ezra. In a few moments, Ezra's efforts to free himself, his screams, fell silent and he went limp. Zeb had approached and with quick movements seized Ezra and hefted him into a cradled position. The boy's gaze was blank and Kanan hated to see it, but not as much as watching him step off that edge.


End file.
